Let any gentleman who may read these pages go back, in memory, to the sunny days of boyhood, when he returned home with a "fine string"--the result of a day's fishing--how enthusiastically he entered into the description of the manner in which the big ones were captured. And then, with a tinge of regret in the tones, how graphically he related the escape of some monster of the stream, which, probably, carried away the hook and part of the line. If you can remember such episodes in your life, now, alas! in the long ago--and if you cannot the author sincerely pities you--then you can have some idea of the triumph of Eddie Ashton upon the evening in question. He had fished on several occasions in the river and bay, both with rod and with trolling line, and had been moderately successful, catching some fine pike and bass--larger indeed than he had ever seen before, even in the fish-market in the city; but their capture did not animate him with pride like this day's catch. He had often read of trout-fishing, and had longed to participate in its exciting pleasures, thinking how delighted he should be if he were ever so fortunate as to bring home even a few; but never in his wildest dreams did he anticipate anything like what he had now actually realized. That night he sat down and wrote to Jim Williams, telling him of his success, and then asking him if he thought Canada was such a slow place to live in after all. As the Ashton family gathered round the tea board in their neat cosy dining-room that beautiful summer evening they presented a picture of true happiness. They had still many things left which they had purchased in the days of their opulence. The silver tea set was shining upon the board as brightly now as it did fifteen years before. The table was spread with a snow-white cloth--one that had been brought from over the sea. The silver spoons and china tea set were also mementos of the dear old home land. The fare was simple but ample, and there was so much of kindly mirth and genial wit that each one was happy. Richard Ashton had not lost his fine sense of humor, and he dearly loved to enjoy a joke with his wife and children, though he never indulged in witticisms that would wound the feelings of the most sensitive person; he was too much of a gentleman to thus torture others. If a person could have been present that night, without restraining their innocent mirth, and participated in the joy of that happy family, he would never have dreamed that less than one short year before there had been a dark cloud of sorrow lowering over them, shutting out all the sunlight from their view. "Our business has been developing very rapidly lately," said Mr. Ashton; "there has not been a period during the time in which Mr. Gurney has been in business that the sales have equalled this month. And this is the reason, I suppose, he has raised my salary sooner than he promised. I think I have no cause to be discouraged with the result."